


A Riddle, Wrapped in Mystery, Inside Death

by glorious_clio



Category: The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank and Sadie are no stranger to the supernatural, but what happens when they come face to face with a deathless Russian demon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Riddle, Wrapped in Mystery, Inside Death

_Our story begins in a penthouse apartment in the famed Plaza Hotel, where, to celebrate their country in a show of Fourth of July patriotism, Frank and Sadie Doyle settle in for a cozy night of America’s Favorite Pastime...._

 

“Darling Frank, can I fix you a drink?”

 

“Better make it a double, Sadie love. You know I can only listen to a baseball game if properly banjaxed.”

  
“It is the American Way.”  Sadie poured.  “Here you are, darling, a double vodka, no rocks.”

 

“Ah, thank you, dearest.”

 

There was a rap at the door.

 

“Frank - what was that?”

 

“Not to worry, love.  It was merely the crack of the bat!”

 

“Oh. Do bats crack more than once?”

 

“Hmmm... you may have a point, Sadistic. Better pour us another drink, and see if it happens again.”

 

Frank turned off the radio, Sadie poured the double vodkas, and they drank them.  Sure enough, the person at the door knocked again.  

 

“Maybe it’s that horrid brat from across the hall, Frankenstein?”

 

“No, Eloise’s nanny usually sends her off to dreamland well before this.”

  
“Thank goodness for children’s cold medicine!” Sadie cried.  

  
“Indeed! It is like alcohol for those not yet old enough to hold their Scotch.”

  
The knock sounded again, more insistent than before.

 

“I suppose I had better open it,” Frank said.

 

“Oh no you don’t, Franklin Pierce Doyle. Not without another drink, anyway.”

 

*clink*

 

“Thank you, Sadie love.  What would I ever do without you?”

 

“You shall never have to find out, Frank.”  

 

The knocker knocked again.  Frank reluctantly set his drink down, and with barely concealed distaste, opened the door to the stranger.   

  
“And who might you be, and might I convince you to go away again?”

 

“My name is John King, and I’ve been told you can help with the supernatural?”

 

Frank sighed deeply.  “Who told you?”

 

“Well it’s usually a footnote the society pages.”  John fiddled with the brim of his hat.  

  
“What kind of society pages have footnotes?” Sadie asked.

  
“What? Never mind, look, this-” he began to babble, but stopped himself.  Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Can you help me or not?”

 

“I think you’ll find we _can_ help you,” Frank said grandly.  

 

“Thank you-”

 

“Whether or not we will is another matter entirely.”  He started to shut the door.

 

“Now Frank, you know as well as I do that we _will_ help this Mr. King, if only to avoid listening to a tedious baseball game.  Are you aware, Mr. King, that they go for nine innings, regardless of how long that takes?”

 

“Yes? And please, it’s John. Mr. King is my father.”  

 

“Very well, John, what seems to be the trouble?” Sadie asked.  

 

“Well it’s my wife-”

 

“Your wife? We don’t give marriage advice. Good evening,” Frank said. He made to shut the door again.

 

This time, John stopped him. “You don’t understand! She’s chained a demon up in the basement!”

  
Frank sighed once more.  “Yes, you’d better come in.”  

 

“Thank you.”  

 

Sadie offered him a chair and a double vodka.  

 

“ _Na zdrovye_!” he said, downing it in one.  

 

Even Frank was impressed.  

 

“Are you Russian, John?” Sadie asked. Her eyes were narrowed, her lovely brow creased in sudden concentration.

 

“My parents were.”

 

“What’s on your mind, Sadie?” Frank asked.  

 

“And your wife, what is her name?” Sadie continued.  

  
“Mary. She’s gone for the weekend; she’s in the Marines and had drill.”  

 

“Did she, by any chance, tell you to stay out of the basement?” Sadie asked.  

  
“Well, yes,” John said.  

 

“And you peeked?” Frank interrupted. “Why, your Christmas presents might have been down there!”

  
“A man has every right to know what is going on in his basement!”

 

“I don’t even know where my basement is. I suspect it is underneath the Plaza somewhere. But even if I wanted to find it, if my wife told me to keep out, I _would_!”

 

“Frank, John, please.  Sadie knows what to do.” She tutted. “But Frank is right, you shouldn’t have looked, John.  You’ve set in motion events that happen every hundred years ago, usually to Russian people named Ivan and Marya.  It’s just one of those things.”

 

“My name is John.”

  
“Which is the anglicized version of Ivan,” Frank said, realization dawning on him.  “We’re all going to need another drink before Sadie continues.”

  
He poured. They drank.

 

“You have Koschei the Deathless in your basement. He’s a Russian demon, a spouse stealer, and he is nigh impossible to kill.”

  
“Clever Sadie,” Frank said.  

  
“But you can kill him, can’t you?” John asked.  

 

“Did you give him any nourishment?” asked Frank.

 

“Just some water.” John fiddled with his empty glass.  

 

Frank groaned.  “Better pack a flask, Sadie, and perhaps that little item we purchased at our last auction.”  

 

“Yes of course, Frank. I shall pack _two_ flasks. You never know how long we may be, especially if we have to visit Baba Yaga again.”

 

“I hope it won’t come to that, although, last time, she gave us that marvelous caviar!”

  
“Brave Frank, always looking on the bright side.  Right then, away we go, two Doyles and a King!”

 

They trooped downstairs, into a taxi, and across town to the small house that John King owned with his wife.  

 

“So how do we kill something that has ‘Deathless’ right in the name?” John asked as he unlocked the door.  

 

“Well, it’s not so much that he is without death.  It is more like, he has removed it from his person. Or his demon, I suppose.  Rather like having a mole removed,” Frank explained.  

 

“Yes, exactly! And traditionally speaking, he has hidden it inside of a needle, which in turn is in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a hare, which is in an iron chest, which is buried under a green oak tree, which is on the island of Buyan, which is itself is a mythical place.  Oh Frank! These Russians love to put things inside of other things!”

 

“Like those silly Matryoshka dolls!” Frank enthused.  

 

Sadie allowed herself a laugh at the charming toys, before growing serious once again.  “Now John. How much water did you give the demon?”

 

“Just one glass.  I’m not made of stone.”

  
“Good. And when will your wife be home?” Frank asked.  

 

“Soon - it’s Sunday night.”

  
“Already?” Sadie asked.  “This week was a bit of a blur.”

 

“Not blurry enough,” Frank said. He took out his flask.  

  
After another shot of courage, the three marched downstairs for a look at the demon.  He was indeed chained to the wall, as John had described. His body was emaciated to the point of skeletal; however weak he looked, Frank and Sadie knew his power was not gone from him.  

 

“Hello, Koschei.  My name is Frank Doyle, and this stunning creature is my wife, Sadie.”

 

“Charmed,” Sadie said brightly.  

  
“I am Koschei the Deathless. Would you mind getting me a glass of water? I am a bit parched.”

 

“Absolutely not!” said Frank.

  
“Yes, neither can you have the other Russian water,” said Sadie.  

 

“Vodka?”

  
“The very same!”

  
“No, love, I was offering you some.”  

 

“Oh! I don’t mind if I do!”

  
*clink*

 

In the next moment, they heard the front door open, followed by a forceful, “Hello?”

 

“It’s Mary! She’s gonna be so mad!” John looked worried.  

  
“You really brought this on yourself, you know,” Frank said.

 

“Yoo hoo! Down here, Mary!” Sadie called up the stairs.  

  
“Who’s there? John? Koschei?!” Mary rushed down the steps, her boots clumping loudly at every step. “What’s going on?” she demanded.  

 

“Your husband snooped, found a demon in your basement, and called us,” Frank said.

 

“Frank and Sadie Doyle, Married Mediums,” Sadie said by way of introduction.  

 

“Anyway, we were just about to dispatch your demon slave when you came in,” Frank continued.  

 

“John, is this true?” Mary asked.  

  
“Mary, why do you keep a demon chained in the basement?” asked John, quietly.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She said.

  
“No,” Frank, Sadie, and John answered.  

  
“Mary, may I please have some water?” Koschei asked again.

 

“No, Koschei, you may not,” Mary said.  “He’s responsible for my strength. I don’t know how it works, but he took a shine to me, and now I’m the best warrior in the Marines!”

  
“And you keep him chained up because...” Frank prompted.  

 

“Because if I didn’t, he’d kidnap and kill John,” Mary admitted.  “Koschei’s awfully jealous.”

 

“Mostly thirsty,” Koschei said hopefully.  

 

“I sympathize,” Sadie said. “But we cannot allow you to drink any more water, darling. You’ll only grow stronger and escape.”

 

“Then he has to go!” said John, panicky.  

  
“But then you would be depriving the United States of America their very best Marine!” Mary said.  

 

“Nonsense, you’d still be a Marine, the best trained branch of the military from the best country in the world.  You know what those recruitment posters say, An Army of One! That’s you!” Frank said.  

  
“Army? I eat those guys for breakfast,” Mary said.  

  
“Either way, you don’t need anyone, man or demon, to make you the woman, or warrior, you are. Rid yourself of him, and you’ll be stronger than ever!” Sadie encouraged.

  
“Besides, he’s Russian, so he’s probably a communist.  If I know anything, communists are bad.” Frank said.

  
“Though they do know what to do with a potato,” Sadie added.  

 

*clink*

 

“I’ll repeat this: how do we kill someone who is deathless?” John asked.  

  
“You could try drowning me,” suggested Koschei hopefully. “It worked for Rasputin.”

 

“Did it?” Mary countered.  

  
“Absolutely no water,” said Frank.

  
“All we really need is the egg with the needle inside,” Sadie reminded everyone.  

 

“How do we get that?” John asked.  

 

“Well, we were at Christie’s last week-” Sadie began.

 

“We do love an auction!”

 

“And we picked up this lovely, heretofore thought lost, Faberge egg.  Please note the motif of the ducks and hares. It is almost as if they are fighting which hunting season it might be.  And the surprise inside is a lady’s sewing kit.  The needle happens to have a thread through the eye.  Frank, darling, would you like the honors?”

 

“No thank you, darling, I believe that honor falls to the warrior in the room,” Frank said.

  
“Give it here,” say Mary.  She snatched the thread from the needle.  

 

Koschei soundly seemed more desperate than before. “Mary, no! Think about what you are doing! I love you! I built you up!”

 

“No you didn’t. The US Marines did!” Mary bit the thread in half.  

  
Koschei screamed, the chains rattled against the wall. His withered body seemed to curl in on itself even more, turning to dust until he disappeared with a puff.  The chains fell silent.

  
“You know, the sewing kit did contain a small pair of scissors,” Sadie commented mildly.  

 

“Well, this was fun,” said Frank.  

 

“Yes, let’s never do it again,” Sadie agreed.  

 

“John, when your wife tells you not to go snooping, do not go snooping,” Frank said.

 

“And Mary, it is unwise to depend on foreign powers,” Sadie added.  

 

“So long!” they called, dashing up the stairs and out of the house, leaving John and Mary to sort out the rest of their marital issues.

 

“Back to the Plaza, my dear?” Frank said.

 

“You read my mind,” Sadie purred.  

  
“I hope you can read _my_ mind, love.  Those chains gave me an idea....”

 

*clink*

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout out to Annakie for her betaing skills. Thanks for being awesome!
> 
> This is my first TAH fic, I hope you enjoyed it! (she said nervously.) My apologies to Russian folklore fans.


End file.
